Leaving Eureka
I woke up with my tendons finally feeling pain-free, excited to finally set off for Yaak. My plan for the day was to find water and camp at the base of Webb Mountain so that I could start the 3000-foot climb the next day with fresh legs.
I set off fairly early on the Kootenai Rail Trail after eating a breakfast of oats and gas station donuts, saying goodbye to the town hall backyard that had been my home for the past few days. The rail trail was a beautiful, flat, easy stretch… until it started getting hot. I made a pit stop to change into my short shorts in an outhouse at an NFS campground. There, I met this weird old Eastern Oregon dude who fulfilled all of my stereotypes about Eastern Oregon dudes. He was a cattle rancher who came out toward Eureka to camp for a few weeks. He spent most of our conversation complaining about “these BLM guys who come up from California and tell us what to do with our property”. He warned me multiple times, “Don’t be like those hipster BLM guys”. He had this real Sovereign Citizen vibe, and I couldn’t wait to stop talking to him.
The long, hot roadwalk to the base of the Mountain was tough and fairly joyless. I played Tyler the Creator’s delightful pop album IGOR from my phone speaker to keep me company. At some point I started feeling a burning sensation on my legs, so I stopped at the “watering hole” (W148) and found a rash creeping up both of my legs. This would end up being a common problem on road walks. I hydrated, elevated my legs and rested for a half hour or so. I think I filled up only about a liter of water, because I was planning to stop at Boulder Creek (near 0151P).
I felt so excited walking over this bridge - it meant that my long roadwalk was almost over! But when I got to Boulder Creek, my heart sank. The creek was at least a hundred feet below the road with a difficult rock scramble to actually access the water. I looked at map page 16 again and saw some faint blue lines that appeared to cross the trail on the way up Mt. Webb… and in a moment of sheer idiocy, I decided to double down and hope that I could get some water on the way up Mt. Webb and somehow find a flat spot to camp. I was already down to about half a liter and feeling a little bit dehydrated. It took a little bit of squinting to find the faint hiking trail leading up the mountain, but I found it eventually and started heading up.
I didn’t find any water on the way up Mt. Webb. Not even a depression in the earth where a stream might have once flowed. By the time I was about 1/3 of the way up the mountain, I knew I was going to have to climb the whole 3000-foot thing dehydrated, or go all the way back and scramble down to Boulder Creek to fill up. So I chose the first option. I blasted more music from my phone speaker to get through it - Foxing’s Nearer My God. My whole body hurt and I wanted to cry.
When I finally made it up to the lookout tower, I met an older couple who had driven up the other side of the mountain to stay there for the night. They had two whole water coolers with them! I wanted to cry again, but out of relief and happiness. So I yogi’d some ice-cold water and chatted with them for a while. I think they thought I was weird.
I followed the Thirsty Mountain Trail (you kiddin’ me?) to a flat spot near a forest road (0159P) and collapsed in my tent after shoveling some mashed potatoes into my body. About 20 minutes later, I woke up to what sounded like something chewing…
It was a herd of cows just wandering down the forest road by themselves. This was the first time I had been on federal grazing land, and I was incredibly confused about why they were just roaming around. I hadn’t crossed any cattle guards or fences. Were they lost? How do they know where to go? These questions continue to haunt me.